


you know how it goes

by shatteredhourglass



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Asexual Bucky Barnes, Bondage, Bottom Clint Barton, Dom Bucky Barnes, Established Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Explicit Sexual Content, In Which Bucky Does Not Get Physically Involved In The Sex But He Likes Ordering People Around, M/M, Multi, POV Bucky Barnes, Partially Nonsexual BDSM, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sub Clint Barton, Teasing, Top Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:02:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25631005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shatteredhourglass/pseuds/shatteredhourglass
Summary: “I want you to have sex with Steve,” Bucky says.What the fuck is going on with that sandwich?
Relationships: Clint Barton/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 67
Kudos: 439





	you know how it goes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hawksonfire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hawksonfire/gifts).



> More in-depth explanation: Bucky's not a sex-repulsed asexual. He isn't interested in getting physically involved with the sex but he's okay with it, and he likes the dom part of it. Voila. Hope it was worth the wait, Arson!

“I want you to have sex with Steve,” Bucky says.

Clint raises his gaze from where he’s trying to layer a sandwich that’s taller than it has any right to be. It wobbles alarmingly and he catches it one-handed, pushes a slice of cheese back into the spot it slid out of with the kind of grace that’d be attractive if he wasn’t making the most horrifying sandwich known to man. It’s got _whipped cream_ , for god’s sake.

He meets Bucky’s stare and then turns his attention to Steve, who’s standing just behind Bucky. Bucky’s got no clue what kind of a face Steve’s making right now, but Clint’s gaze returns a second later as he picks up a jar of mustard without looking, slaps it on top of the salami.

"You're sure about this?" Clint asks.

"I'm sure," Bucky agrees.

Clint shrugs and picks up the sandwich, takes a bite. He chews slowly and then wrinkles his nose, opens the fridge with his foot and puts the sandwich inside safely. Then he pulls out a green sticky note with _HULK_ printed on it and attaches it to the sandwich before he turns back to them. “Okay.”

“We got ground rules here?”

“I don’t do sex,” Bucky says when Steve doesn’t volunteer anything useful. “Not at all.”

“I mean, I kinda guessed that when I saw the flag on your jacket,” Clint replies with a raised eyebrow. Yeah, fair enough. It was a gift from that Billy kid - apparently they’re big on pride, and Bucky appreciates the thought. “You still asked me up here, though. What’s the plan?”

“Steve’s gonna fuck you,” Bucky replies.

“ _Is_ he now?”

“I’d like to,” Steve offers. “I’d like that a lot.”

“Thought we’d have a little fun with it,” Bucky says. “I’ve seen your browser history, Barton. You think you can handle him?”

Clint snorts. “I can handle anything you throw at me. I’m not some kind of delicate flower, y’know.”

“We still want you to enjoy yourself. We care about you, Clint,” Steve says gently.

Bucky gets the added pleasure of watching Clint get flustered by that, his bravado vanishing instantly in the face of being shown some genuine affection. It’s always like this with Clint - he responds fine when you jab at him, swear at him, try to kill him or buy him food, but the second you try to talk about feelings he short-circuits. That's Steve's niche, too.

(He’s kind of hoping this might shift things in their favour.)

“I, uh,” Clint says. “Right. Okay. Thank you?”

“You’re welcome,” Steve says, forever the gentleman.

Bucky realizes very quickly that nothing is going to happen here if he leaves Clint and Steve to their own devices. He wasn’t planning to leave anyway - the opportunity to watch is an enticing one - but once he sets a chair down by the bed he realizes Clint and Steve are just staring at each other.

There’s a faint flush on Clint’s cheeks and Steve’s fingers are twitching at his sides like he’s struggling not to move.

Right. Okay.

“On the bed,” Bucky says.

Steve just blinks at him but Clint moves immediately, sits down in the center of the mattress and looks at them. His shirt has disappeared into thin air somewhere between the kitchen and the room they share, and his jeans are unbuttoned just enough that Bucky can see he’s not wearing underwear. It’s a shame - Bucky was hoping for the Captain America boxers again.

“How you doin’,” Bucky says, focusing on Steve for now. He steps in close, hooks his fingers in Steve’s belt loop to tug him closer.

“I keep thinking this is a dirty fantasy I’m having and I’m going to wake up in bed alone,” Steve murmurs, surprisingly honest.

Bucky likes it, pushes up on his toes to press a quick kiss to Steve’s lips. His fingers end up on Steve’s shirt, unbutton the first three buttons. “Good. Enjoy it.”

“I am.”

“I love you.”

“Love you too.”

Now he’s made sure Steve’s fine, he turns his attention to Clint.

“Enjoying the view, Barnes?”

“Sure I am,” Bucky says. “Just makin’ sure you haven’t smuggled your sandwich in here.”

Clint’s lips twitch up into a faint smirk at that. He’s been looking more and more tense, more tired these last couple of days and Bucky wants to see him _relax_ , as much as he wants to see what Steve’s orgasm face looks like.

Bucky gets on the bed carefully, straddles Clint’s hips. Clint looks amused by this, tips his head up curiously. The little half-smirk stays on his face right up until Bucky takes his hands and presses them into the mattress with _just_ enough force that it’d take him some effort to escape.

Immediately Clint relaxes under him, licks at his lip and stares up at him like Bucky’s some kind of god and not a fucked-up mess trying to figure this whole thing out. It’s nice. It gives Bucky another idea, and he notes Clint’s dick poking him in the thigh as he leans down to breathe hot against Clint’s ear.

“I’m gonna tie you up and then Steve’s gonna have his way with you,” he whispers, listens to Clint’s breath catch. “Let me know if you have any problems. Okay?”

“Okay,” Clint answers shakily.

Bucky lets go and sits up slowly, gestures for Steve to come closer. He points to the second drawer on his side of the bed without looking away from Clint’s face. There’s ropes in there - technically they weren’t bought for this purpose but they’ll work just as well, and they’re gentle enough for it.

Clint keeps his hands where Bucky’s left them even though Bucky doesn’t tell him to.

It feels like Clint’s trying to behave to please him, even without being asked. He’s pliant when Bucky ties his wrists, loops the rope through the headboard and makes sure it’s secure. Bucky’s got to tug on the rope himself; Clint’s not even trying to escape. (Mostly he looks like he’s going to come in his pants.)

“You being good for me, Barton?”

“I’ll be whatever you want me to be right now,” Clint tells him.

Bucky touches his cheek gently and he tips his face into it, breathes out warm against Bucky’s palm.

“Good boy. Trade,” Bucky says to Steve, slides off the bed.

“Come here often?” Clint asks when Steve leans over him and he’s flushed in the face and hard enough it looks painful already, but of _course_ he’s trying to flirt anyway.

“I’d like to,” Steve replies, and earns himself a laugh from Clint.

“Kiss him,” Bucky directs.

Neither of them question him - Clint can’t do much other than tip his face up for it as Steve leans down to follow Bucky’s instruction. The kiss is sweet, almost chaste, like Steve’s some kind of a fairytale prince waking up his princess and Bucky can see the way Clint melts into it.

It’s nice to watch and Bucky does exactly that, keeps his eyes fixed on them. The contrast of them is beautiful; Steve’s all unmarked perfectionist glory, classic gold and careful touching whereas Clint’s scarred and sharp and messy, hands curling into fists where they’re pressed against the sheets, jeans ripped at the knee and sliding down his hips.

They’re mesmerizing, and even more so when Clint tries to grind himself up against Steve. The position looks like it’d be hard to hold but Clint manages just fine, and the moan that slips out of Steve is a winner.

They break off to breathe, foreheads pressed together, and Bucky takes the opportunity to get more. He’s not interested in involving himself in the act physically but giving orders feels _good_ , like nothing else he’s experienced in the last seventy years.

“Steve, take his pants off,” he says.

There’s no questioning, and Bucky watches with amusement as the jeans are quickly shucked off and tossed onto the floor. They don’t even get folded, and Steve’s normally got _Opinions_ about folding clothes properly. He’s better at hiding it than Clint, but Bucky can tell Steve’s just as keyed-up.

“Am I gonna be the only one getting naked here?”

“For now,” Bucky says.

Clint doesn’t look particularly upset about it anyway.

“It’s a nice view,” Steve adds, leaning in to capture Clint’s mouth again. His hands are on Clint’s chest, feeling him up as Clint makes a quiet noise against his lips.

Bucky uses the opportunity to pick up his remaining ropes and loop them around Clint’s ankles one by one, silently thanking Stark for putting in a bed with posts that make this a lot easier for him. The ropes are simple white and Clint’s tanned enough that it makes a nice contrast.

He’s got a circular scar on his ankle over the bone and Bucky rubs his thumb over it as Clint’s toes curl gently. Whatever Steve’s doing with his mouth, Clint’s enjoying it. Enjoying it a _lot_ , judging from the wetness smearing on Steve’s shirt where his dick’s rubbing up against it.

Bucky sits himself down in the chair he’d brought in, sinks back into the soft cushions and watches the flash of tongue and teeth as Steve takes over Clint’s mouth.

Steve’s fingers trail down Clint’s stomach, over the map of muscle and skin and tracing over the lines of the spider inked on his hip. He doesn’t touch Clint’s dick, though he’s clearly aware of it. “We get you that worked up?”

“You kidding me?” Clint’s clearly _trying_ for incredulous, but his voice is too breathy for it. “Do you have any clue how hot this is for me? I’m so fucking turned on I think I’m going to die.”

“You can die once Steve’s finished with you. And that’s gonna be a while,” Bucky cuts in as Steve smiles.

“Jesus fuck,” Clint groans, lets his head fall back against the pillows.

“Ropes feeling okay?”

“Ropes are great,” comes the slightly strained reply. “It’d be better if Steve would get a damn move on.”

“Is that right?” Steve’s fingers are still slowly exploring Clint’s body, the scars and skin. It feels like he’s waiting for something, even as he keeps touching. “What do you want me to get a move on _with_ , Clint?”

Clint doesn’t answer, closes his eyes and bites his lip hard enough that it looks painful. The noise he makes when Steve’s fingers brush over his nipples is extremely telling though, and Bucky leans forward in his chair to watch him squirm more closely.

He leans his forearms on his thighs, some small corner of his mind reveling in how much _better_ this is when he doesn’t have to be physically involved. Everyone wins. Well, not _everyone_ , but that guy at McDonald’s was kind of creepy.

“You want Steve to fuck you?”

“ _Please_.”

“He’ll make it real nice,” Bucky says quietly. “Fuck you hard and good until you come all over yourself, and then he’ll keep going until you forget your own name.”

Bucky meets Steve’s gaze when he looks up, but Steve doesn’t say anything. There’s a flicker of understanding in his eyes, like maybe he gets why this is so good for Bucky. At least one of them has some idea.

Steve thumbs over one nipple, keeps eye contact with him even as Clint gasps, dick twitching against his stomach.

“Get the lube,” Bucky says.

“On it, Buck,” Steve answers, leans over his side of the bed to open a drawer.

Clint’s got his eyes half-shut and his lips are red and used-looking. He looks like he’s having some kind of a religious experience, and Bucky’s never been one for believing in gods but he’s happy to give Clint that kind of enjoyment if he wants it.

“Steve,” Bucky says, and Steve glances at him. “Take your damn socks off.”

“Anything else?”

“Nope.”

“Alright,” Steve says, gets back on the bed between Clint’s spread thighs. He’s still wearing his pants and a shirt, although the shirt is so tight it’s not leaving anything to the imagination anyway. Bucky watches as he slicks one hand up and then stops like that. “What now, Buck?”

Oh. That’s nice.

Bucky glances at Clint. He’s watching Steve hungrily from where he’s spread out naked underneath him. They could give him what he wants right now, but… then again, they may as well make the most of this. Who knows when - or _if_ \- it’ll happen again?

“Jerk yourself off,” Bucky says. “Don’t touch him any more than you have to.”

Steve swears quietly and unzips his jeans with his clean hand, pulls out his cock. It’s flushed and hard, wet at the tip and Clint makes an aborted movement like he’s desperate to touch. The ties hold steady though and he can’t do much more than squirm against the sheets as Steve strokes himself.

Clint’s not the only one keyed up by this. It only takes a few minutes and Steve’s fisting his dick roughly, barely making a noise over Clint’s harsh breathing. His muscles are all tight and tense and he’s twisting his hand on every second stroke, hips pushing into his own grip.

“Bucky,” he says, strained, and Bucky looks at the shadows of his lashes golden against his cheeks, wonders what the fuck he did to deserve him. Either of them, really.

“You can come,” he says. “But you have to come on Clint.”

They groan in unison and Bucky feels a helpless flood of affection. They’re _his_ boys, trusting him to run the show without laying a hand on either of them, and he loves it.

Steve isn’t going to last much longer from what Bucky sees, as he grunts and quickens his pace.

He’s always been easy to get worked up and apparently this works for him because he surges forward to kiss Clint and then stops a few scant inches from his mouth, probably remembering that Bucky had told him not to touch, and Clint whines and then Steve shudders and comes like that. His come ends up on Clint’s stomach, wet on his thighs and a single stripe of white across Clint’s dick.

Bucky’s doubly glad he’s just sitting here because he gets to watch them both visibly struggle not to touch each other. Clint’s almost vibrating out of his skin and Steve’s got his eyes shut tight, and they’re just breathing each other’s air, carefully still.

“Clint?” He’s looking a little glassy-eyed, but he blinks at his name.

“Thought you were gonna fuck me,” he says hoarsely.

Bucky feels his lips twitch up into a smirk. “Trust me, that’s still on the cards. You good, Steve?”

“Yeah,” Steve answers, but he looks a little frayed around the edges when he sits up. “Should I-”

“Just one.”

“What- _oh_ ,” Clint says as Steve slides lube-slick one finger inside him. It goes in easy, and the ties around Clint’s ankles are loose enough for him to spread his knees without too much trouble. “Fuck yes.”

Bucky doesn’t tell him to do anything more.

Steve takes a little initiative with this one; he doesn’t add another finger but he shifts the one he’s already using, pulls back and then pushes it in deeper until he gets a shaky gasp from Clint. Steve glances up at Bucky, eyes dark, and Bucky raises an eyebrow silently.

Clint’s starting to move into the slow push of Steve’s finger inside him, rocking against it as much as he can while tied up. It’s clearly not enough for him. Bucky doesn’t say anything though and Steve keeps going, just the one finger until Clint’s tugging against the ropes and biting his lip so hard it looks painful.

“You’re doing great,” Steve says, soothing.

“I’d be doing better if you’d get a move on,” Clint pleads. “Shit, fuck, _please_ , c’mon, you’re killing me here.”

“We haven’t even started yet,” Bucky comments. “Go on, give him two.”

Steve pushes them in right up to his knuckles and Clint makes an inarticulate noise in the back of his throat, lets his head fall back to the pillow. He scissors his fingers and then drizzles more lube onto them, shoves in hard enough that Clint’s cock twitches against his stomach.

“How you feeling, Barton?”

“Please,” Clint mutters.

“What was that?”

“Fuck _you_ ,” Clint says, his breath hitching loud when Steve’s leisurely pace speeds up a fraction. “Give it to me, Steve.”

“No,” Steve replies, a tiny smile on his lips. “I don’t think I will.”

“Patience, Barton,” Bucky says. “You want to be good for us, right?”

“I’m _being_ good,” Clint answers, breathless frustration tinging his words. Steve hasn’t stopped fingerfucking him and Clint’s pupils are dilated to hell when he opens his eyes. “I’m trying and you keep _teasing_ me, and I just-”

“Do you want to call it quits?”

“I- no,” Clint says.

“Steve,” Bucky says, gestures for him to still his movements. Steve keeps his fingers in deep, enough that Clint swears and tries to get more on his own. It doesn’t work and he gives up after a second.

Bucky’s surprised he hasn’t tried to slip out - he _could_ , is the thing. Clint’s got a range of useful skills and one of them is that it’s near-impossible to stop him from escaping if he wants to go. A little bit of rope wouldn’t stop him. It means he’s fine with this, that he _wants_ this, even if he’s grumbling about it.

“I could make him stop completely,” Bucky says. “Maybe I’ll make him fuck your mouth instead and you don’t get to do anything except make Steve feel good.”

Clint makes a surprisingly loud noise at that and he tries to muffle it in the pillow but can’t quite manage it with how his hands are tied, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment and arousal. Oh, he _likes_ that.

Bucky tucks away that information for later. He’s hoping there’ll be another time for that, to keep using Clint over and over for Steve’s pleasure until he’s ruined completely.

Right now, Bucky’s got a plan and he’s sticking to it, because he’s pretty sure Steve’s been dreaming of this moment for a while and he’s nothing if not helpful. He’s hard again, dick heavy between his thighs as he waits for Bucky to give him the go-ahead.

“Please,” is all Clint says in the end, quiet and desperate.

“Now four,” Bucky says.

“Oh fuck,” Clint breathes, hands twitching in their bonds.

For a second Bucky thinks he’s going to call it quits, safeword out because he looks like he’s absolutely falling to pieces under Steve’s careful hands, little fine tremors running through his body. His chest is rising and falling rapidly but he doesn’t say anything more, just lies there and pants for breath as Steve angles his fingers and pushes them all in.

Bucky’s half-tempted to take it further, to order Steve to tuck his thumb in and see how much Clint can really take before he breaks. He doesn’t though, and Steve stays where he is with Clint spread out on his fingers, fucking him slow and waiting, eyes fixed on Clint with an intense kind of hunger.

Bucky’s sort of glad Clint isn’t looking because even _he’s_ feeling a kind of way about that look, although with him it makes him want to force a movie night with extra cuddling.

“Bucky,” Clint says, and his voice cracks on it. “Bucky, _please,_ I’m losing my mind.”

He doesn’t ask Steve.

He asks Bucky, and the flood of emotions in Bucky’s brain are too complicated to process properly, some mix of triumph and joy and helpless, enormous affection for the way Clint’s just rolling with this. He _gets_ it, somehow. 

“You should fuck him now,” Bucky says.

Steve licks his lip. “Any particular way?”

“Make him feel good,” Bucky tells him. “Make it _real_ good.”

“Got it,” Steve says, and Bucky might not have sex with him but he’s still confident Steve’s got the skills to back it up.

Clint makes a sharp, shocked noise when Steve’s fingers slide out of his hole. He doesn’t get any time to recover from it because a second later Steve’s untied the ropes on his ankles to push one leg up to his chest, filling him up with his cock instead.

Steve fucks with the same kind of intensity he has during missions, eyes fixed on Clint as he moves his hips in fluid, hard movements. The sound of skin slapping and Clint’s moans fill the air. Steve has one hand on the back of Clint’s knee, one splayed against his flat stomach and it looks oddly possessive - and extremely attractive, if Bucky’s honest.

“This what you were asking for?”

“God, yeah,” Clint breathes, fingers curling against his palms. “ _Steve_.”

“You’re perfect,” Steve says back, and the noise Clint makes is more of a sob than anything else.

There’s no teasing from Steve. He’s not like Bucky, doesn’t have that helpless desire to push people until they bend, getting high off the trust involved. Aside from enjoying the sex, Steve just likes making people happy, and what’s making Clint happy right now is fucking him hard enough that the bed creaks alarmingly underneath them.

“I can’t,” Clint says, arches as much as he can with his movement restricted. “I- _Steve_ , Steve, I’m-”

“Bucky didn’t say you could come yet,” Steve tells him. He sounds close himself and Bucky’s tempted, he’s so goddamn _tempted_ to keep it going, but Clint looks like he might actually die and Bucky's not that mean.

“Think he deserves it now,” Bucky says. “You’ve been good, haven’t you? Take it so good, Clint.”

“So good,” Steve agrees, slides the hand on Clint’s stomach down to his untouched dick.

It isn’t necessary because the second Steve’s fingertips touch him Clint comes, adding to the drying mess on him already. He’s making loud, oversensitive noises and Steve doesn’t stop fucking him, keeps the steady pace until Clint’s writhing under him hard enough to hurt himself.

“Oh god,” Clint says, voice rough like he’s been gargling sandpaper.

“Steve,” Bucky says and that’s all Steve needs as well as he surges forward to catch Clint’s slack mouth in an oddly gentle kiss, shudders and grinds to a halt with his cock still buried deep inside.

Steve catches himself on one hand before he collapses on Clint. It’s just as well, really - Clint doesn’t look like he can take much more. They stay like that for a long beat, the silence only punctuated by Steve’s breathing and Clint’s hitching sobs, although they sound more like a release than any real distress.

Steve noses at Clint’s ear, drops a kiss against his cheek. Bucky hears him whisper _thank you_ almost too quiet to hear and hears Clint’s shaky huff of breath in reply.

“We made a mess, huh,” Steve says ruefully, looking down at the mess of cum and sweat. He glances at the bathroom and then looks hesitant, gaze flicking to Bucky and away again.

“I’ve got him,” Bucky says.

“I’ll get a cloth,” Steve answers.

He disappears into the bathroom and Bucky gets to his feet to untie Clint, who’s remarkably silent.

“Did we break you, Barton? Don’t tell me it was that easy.”

“Hi,” Clint says blearily, ends up grinning somewhere past Bucky’s shoulder. He looks fucked out and absolutely blissful, hair damp with sweat and flush on his cheeks. There’s red marks on his wrists where the nylon has dug into his skin and Bucky reaches out to rub over them, enjoying the way Clint sighs and goes even more boneless against the mattress.

They should probably wash the sheets. Doesn’t seem worth the effort right now, though.

“Hi there,” Bucky answers. “Enjoying yourself?”

“ _Oh_ yeah. I like it when you bully me,” Clint answers dreamily, still looking extremely satisfied with himself. It’s cute, and Bucky leans down to press his lips to Clint’s sweaty forehead, pats his cheek and feels the prickle of Clint’s stubble against his palm.

“Gonna move over or are you planning on taking up the whole mattress tonight?”

Clint blinks at him real slow, tips his head. “I’m staying here?”

“Think it’d be a little cruel to kick you out,” Bucky says. “’sides, I want to be the big spoon for once. Steve wriggles too much. Think I might keep you.”

Clint’s smile goes from pleased to downright blinding at that. It’s like it lights him up from the inside and Bucky’s got to avert his eyes for a second just to save his vision. Bucky had been seeing this as a test, a one-time experiment, and now all he wants to do is squirrel Clint away so no one else can have him.

Steve chooses that moment to return and Bucky shoots him a look, has no clue if it looks as helplessly smitten as he feels.

Steve doesn’t say anything, but his lips twitch up into a tiny smile.

“Hi, Steve,” Clint says, slurring a little over the name.

“You’re a mess,” Steve says, carefully wiping off his fingers. “You’re okay? It wasn’t… too much?”

“He’s fine,” Bucky says. He smooth down a piece of Clint’s hair that’s sticking up. “Just high as a damn kite, aren’tcha?”

“Mm,” Clint answers, arches himself a little so Bucky keeps touching him. His hair is softer than expected and Bucky gives into the urge to keep touching, lets his fingers drift to Clint’s jaw and brush his throat.

Once Steve’s finished with the cleanup it’s impossible to resist the urge to roll onto the bed and bundle up Clint into his arms. He’s warm and loose-limbed, pliant enough that it’s easy to maneuver him into the perfect position. Bucky presses his nose against the curve of Clint’s spine and quietly revels in how good it feels, as Steve curls up behind him and Clint lets out a blissful sigh.

He's happy.


End file.
